| Why
I Don’t Want Any Christmas Gifts This Year
By Shad Engkilterra, RPCV Banko 1998-2000
My first year in Guinea, I did not take part in the
Girl’s Conference. I did not plan or participate in
any sessions–I didn’t even go to where they were being
held.
The only things I did were to make sure that I could
send two girls from my town and then I sent them.
When they got back, they gave their report to the
health center staff and said they were going to hold
an educational discussion with their peers.
Without any further prompting from me or anyone else,
they set a date, asked me to attend and held the
discussion.
By itself, this was remarkable. These two girls, one
of whom was shy, talked with the other girls in their
school about sex, contraception and abstinence, and
skin products while I, a man, was in the room. Their
information was correct with two minor exceptions, and their peers asked
them tough questions, which they answered with honesty. When they didn’t
know the answer, they said so. It was clear that they had
learned, and retained, much of the information given
to them at the Conference. <
But what made it even more remarkable was the fact
that they held this discussion for four hours during
the weekly market day. These girls could have spent
their time earning money at the market. Instead, they
chose to organize this discussion about the issues
that affected them as Guinean women.
I only remember two gifts I got last year for
Christmas. The first gift was a trip home to see my
family. Not only was this a sizable gift in terms of
an airplane ticket, room and board, it was also
significant in terms of time I was able to spend with
friends and family–most notably, my grandfather, who passed away
in February of this year.
The second gift was a couple of Ziploc containers,
red with sparkles. I remember them because I use them everyday. They
are the only plastic, microwave-safe container I own, and I’m not
afraid to lose them. They were also given to me by someone who is very
special–someone who changed my life and made me a better person.
These are the only two gifts I remember with clarity. Did I get my
Charlie Brown CD this year or last? Did I get a chocolate Santa or candy
cane? My mom probably got me a Christmas coloring book and crayons like
she has done every year for the last twenty years, but I don’t
remember. The things these girls learn at the conferences are things
they will remember. The girls may not listen to some well-off foreigner
telling them about health and how life can be, as is the case in many
development programs, but at the Conferences the girls hear successful
Guineans and other people to whom they can relate. The girls get skills
and information that they can then use in their villages and pass on
to their friends and family. The Girls’ Conferences are something
that will lead to a better quality of life for them and their families,
and you can make this improvement possible through your donation. So
before you go out and get me–or someone you love–that gift
that they will probably forget, think about it. You could take the money
that you would have spent and donate it to an event that will be remembered.
Farewell George Greer
In June, 2002, George Greer stepped down as Country
Director. His replacement is Lisa Ellis. He writes:
"Well the time has really run out on this Guinea traveling circus
and I'm taking down the tents and heading out. Yep, that fateful day
has finally arrived and I'm on my way. We are leaving on July 2 and
finish up in Washington with PC close out on July 11 and 12. I would
like to say what a great pleasure is has been to work with so many great
Volunteers over the past five years in Guinea. It has been a little
over the edge much of the time but on balance is has been a wonderful
and rewarding experience and I really think we have had an impact. Of
course none of this would have been possible for me, either as an APCD
or CD, without the excellent staff of PC Guinea. We are headed to the
DC area where I'm hoping one of the numerous Guinea RPCVs there can
offer me a high paying, low demand job!! Best wishes to all of you.
Du courage and stay in touch, (please email info@ friendsofguinea .org
for George's address)
George Greer
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Help
Support Young Women in Guinea!
by Anne Redmond, Conference Coordinator
Please support a young woman's participation in the
2003 Regional Girls' Conferences. Many volunteers,
including Shad Engilterra (see accompanying article)
have spoken of the Conferences as the most worthwhile
part of their Peace Corps experience. It would be a
shame if they couldn't continue! As of October 31,
2000, $560.00 has been raised–we have a long way to go
to meet our goal of $8,000 by February 2003!
You can help support the Girls' Conferences by:
•making a check or credit card donation
•buying Peace Corps Calendars for $10
•participating in the Guinea Cloth Auction (coming soon!)
•taking up a donation with your office/church/other organization
•telling RPCVs, friends, and family about the conferences!
Visit us at http://www.friendsofguinea.org/conference2003.shtml or
contact conference(at)friendsofguinea(dot)org for more information.
We need your help!
Friends of Guinea Holds Its
First Elections
by Brian Farenell, Interim Elections Officer
The first-ever elections for the Friends of Guinea
board of directors were held this fall.
The process seemed to go fairly smoothly. A notice of
the officer positions and our particular needs was
sent out both to the FOG listserv and to the
membership; although many people are both members of
FOG and belong to the listserv, others belong to only
one. Anyone was free to nominate anyone else for an
office, but only FOG members could vote and only FOG
members could serve as officers. Ballots were emailed
out to members in early October and a little over 20
people voted for seven different positions. The
candidates chosen for office were:
Financial Officer: Jody Sites
Membership Director: Megan Wilson
Listserv Administrator: Marilyn Pearson
Projects director: Cherif Diallo
Secretary: Stephanie Chasteen
Web Administrator: Stephanie Chasteen
Advocacy Director: Brian Farenell
A transition process is in place right now and should
be fully completed some time in November. Thanks to
all who volunteered to be nominated and to those who
voted. A special thanks to our departing officers:
Rebecca Konrad, Dede Dunevant, John Dowaschinski and
Stephanie Mullen. Their contributions were invaluable
to helping get FOG off the ground.
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A Letter From the New Director
Following are excerpts from the letter that went out to volunteers
from new Country Director Lisa Ellis soon after her arrival to take
over the reins from George Greer. We thank the Peace Corps Guinea Newsletter
for their generous courtesy in making it available to us:
Greetings from Conakry. I have been in Guinea for 4
weeks now, and I love it! I have had the opportunity
to meet with some of you either in Conakry, Dubreka,
or during my trip to Labe. Thank you for the warm
reception and for your thoughtful comments and
questions about PC/Guinea. I thought I might take this
opportunity to tell all of you about my background and
experience as well as share some thoughts and
expectations for the PC/Guinea program.
I’m a Southern California native; I grew up in
Pasadena, CA. I went to UCLA where I received a BA in
Economics. After graduation, I became a Peace Corps
Volunteer in The Gambia. From 1987 to 1989, I served
as a math teacher in a very large village about an
hour away from the capital city. I worked on numerous
secondary projects, and to this day, feel that being a
PCV was one of the most challenging jobs I’ve had.
When I returned to the U.S., I went to Georgetown Law
School in Washington, DC. I practiced law for a year
in DC focusing on International Trade Litigation. I
then moved back to California and practiced civil
litigation for a year and a half. I transitioned out
of law and into the business world where I spent 7
years in management at a number of companies in the
technology industry. For the past 5 years, I’ve served
(as a volunteer) on the board of the West Los Angeles
YMCA and was Chairman of the Y’s Community Operations
and Programs. I am very happy now to be serving with
all of you here in Guinea.
I have very traditional views about Peace Corps
service. I believe that it is important for Volunteers
to have meaningful work and to be actively engaged in
capacity building. To have “meaningful work” a need
must be identified by the community, and Volunteers
should receive adequate support in their work to meet
the community’s need. Peace Corps’ focus on “capacity
building” means that Volunteers are educators, that
Volunteers participate in projects that can and will
be sustained by Guineans, or that Volunteers transfer
skills to Guineans. To carry out these challenging
goals, programming and site development are crucial.
Through the end of the year, I will be asking Staff
and Volunteers how we can strengthen our programs and
sites so that every Volunteer in Guinea feels they
have challenging work and that he or she has an
opportunity to make a difference, no matter how small.
As we move towards more meaningful work for all
Volunteers, it is imperative that we all think of
ourselves as professional development workers. My
expectation is that Staff and Volunteers will handle
their jobs in a professional manner, treating each
other with respect and courtesy. Furthermore, I
believe in an open flow of communication between Staff
and Volunteers. My door is open to Staff and
Volunteers. Please take advantage of this opportunity
so that we can make PC/Guinea the best program in the
Africa region.
I look forward to meeting with each one of you in the
very near future, if I haven’t done so already.
Lisa Ellis
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A Return
Trip
by Stephanie Mullen, RPCV Guinea ‘88-‘92
In June 2001, I went back to Guinea for the first
time. Since then I’ve been back twice. Each visit
reminded me of how much fun I had in Guinea, how tough
it was to live there (I wonder now how I survived as
long as I did) and gave me whole set of new and
wonderful memories to sit back and enjoy. During these
three return trips several things struck me. No matter
what the circumstances, there are people who give 100%
of their time and effort for work that they believe in
(i.e. without being bribed). We make impressions on
people that last a very long time. It is sweet to go
back.
During my last trip to Guinea, I spent 6 weeks
working with Save the Children in Mandiana. Like many
areas, Mandiana is located in a remote area of Upper
Guinea and is often inaccessible during the rainy
season. I was helping Save conduct a qualitative study
on early postpartum care. Maternal mortality and
morbidity is high in most areas of Guinea and those
particularly isolated from emergency health care. Save
works closely with traditional birth attendants to
form links between women and the health care services.
In Mandiana, the office is staffed by Guineans who are
dedicated to their jobs and despite budget cuts,
obstacles put up by the government, poor roads and
lack of communication, continue to implement a high
quality program. It was such a pleasant contrast to
many (not all) of the functionnaires that I worked
with as a volunteer. A friend working for
International Rescue Committee (IRC) said the same of
the Guinean IRC staff working to plan and build
refugee camps. He called them “The Untouchables”. I
wonder whether it is a difference in the work cultures
between the public and private sectors or better yet a
reflection of a younger generation of Guineans trying
to improve the conditions in their country. In any
case, it gave me hope that Guinea has a very bright
future.
On another trip back I ran into an old colleague
from USAID, in Kankan. We both did a double take and
quickly caught up on each other’s news from the last 7
years. At the end of our conversation he smiled and
told me that he thinks of me everyday. When I had gone
home to the states for my brother’s wedding I had
brought back small gifts for everyone in our office. I
had given him a coffee mug. Each morning he drinks his
coffee out of this mug.
In retrospect, I was a little anxious about going
back to Guinea, all three times actually. I had felt
the same thing when I went home to the states after 6
years in Guinea. Not quite reverse-reverse culture
shock, but more a sense of time passing and people and
places changing. Change does take place, good and bad,
but there are so many things to hold on to, to remind
us who we are and where we’ve been. It was sweet to go
back.
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Le Griot
Nous Dit…
Eric Lenaeus ('97-'99) says: "I'm getting married."
Eric and his bride-to-be, Laura Ader, will be married
on Dec. 28 2002 in Atlanta. It's going to be a small
wedding.
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On Being a Lazy Childless
Husbandless Freak
by Ann Ingraham
In my village, Kanfarande, women's roles are so
confining, they make Victorian American society look
liberated. Women work all day taking care of the
children, preparing rice, and generally keeping the
house or hut and family together (as often is the case
all over the world, only in America there's microwaves
and jobs outside the home). There's two midwives, the
excisor, the blue gum tattooer, fish smokers, clay pot
makers, traditional healers, lots of market ladies,
but almost all women are first and foremost –
childbearer and caretaker, food preparer, and wife. I
happen to be the only white American within my
sous-prefecture (besides the missionaries on a faraway
island that I've never seen). So as much as I kiss
babies and suffer the consequences of holding
diaperless infants and gently stuff rice into their
scantily toothed mouths and coo and scold toddlers and
shuffle them out of my hut and keep babies from eating
rocks and dirt and zip pants and button shirts and
tickle, I'm not a mother, I'm not a wife, and let's
face it – I'm a freak.
And I can't really talk about it because my Soso is
that of a rich child. I can buy everything at the
market in Soso, but ask me to describe how I feel and
I'm like my boyfriend when I ask him, "Tell me what
you're feeling?" The blank look, the confusion are all
there and I just put my head in my hands and cry
invisible silent tears. I watch as my head explodes
and then piece together the jagged, slippery, bony
pieces.
Sometimes I pretend to be a Guinean mother. I strap a
baby to my back and swing my hips and pound rice (for
a minute until my hands bleed) and furiously scrub my
clothes on the washboard, but after a while I'm bored
and it all seems silly and I have no husband to feed.
So I sit and wonder what to do with myself – the lazy,
childless, husbandless freak. I'll look around and see
a big group of women in bright, flowing colorful
clothes. They're always animated and adamant speaking
in Soso. It's all so important and I understand as
many words as a well trained dog, "Blah, blah, blah,
blah, money, blah, blah, blah, Fatou, blah, blah,
blah, that's not good, blah, blah, blah, black teeth,
blah, blah, Mohammed Keita." It goes on and on. Or
they'll be laughing and braiding each other's hair or
pounding rice or preparing sauce. They are together
happily working and my hair is too slippery to braid
and I can't cook and my Soso is stilted and limited.
So I sit and smile for awhile, maybe put some Maggi in
the sauce or hold a baby.
Sometimes I feel like an uninvited girl at a junior
high slumber party that is tolerated because your mom
said to be nice. Briefly she's a conversation piece.
She's wearing some weird shoes or a brand from Kmart
or something equally as appalling. But, eventually the
group grows bored with the mockery and goes back to
making prank calls.
It would be easier to disregard my freaky status if I
could delve into my work. Maybe shut myself in an
office with a computer, but this sorta' goes against
the Peace Corps idea. My job is a strange flowing
thing that I'm to create and mold like clay provided
by my village. But, sometimes they provide me no
material and sometimes there's no material to provide
and sometimes I don't want to buy the clay myself. So,
I sit and wait for the next lump to be thrown my way
for me to observe and help handle and shape and hope
it won't explode in the kiln.
So, sometimes I'm just "hanging out." You know,
bonding with the villagers and I feel all the women
looking at me queerly. Other times, I feel the epitome
of '70s women's liberation, a single woman forging her
way alone in a hostile universe, braless, my sandals
flapping determinedly forward through the tall grass,
my long natural hair flowing in the sea breeze. I
stretch out my arms and my voice spills out more
beautiful than Barbara Streisand's and I sing, "The
Woman In The Moon." Then I realize that it's 1997, the
end of the millennium, and I'm living in a village
where female liberation means letting your wife choose
what sauce she wants to prepare and I feel like a man
if I wear pants and nobody's read a book by Gloria
Steinem or any book for that matter, or even a street
sign, let alone driven a car with the windows down and
Courtney Love yelling, "I WANT TO BE THE GIRL WITH THE
MOST CAKE!" from the CD player.
These are definite dividing walls – with cracks. As
happily independent and single I am, I can't help
loving babies. Okay, puke. And I feel left out with
all the women flaunting their lactating breasts. Mine
don't do that! I think about having something feeding
off my body to live. I like the idea of playing God.
Creating. I mean, men say things to make you feel like
food. "I love the way you taste." "I want to lick you
and suck you." "You're yummy." I could go on, but I'll
spare you. It is a powerful feeling. Like you are
capable of satisfying them or putting them to bed
without supper. But, it's all quite figurative.
They'll live without you. If you give them the boot,
they'll buy a pizza and a 6 pack of Bud, watch the
Tyson match, and be fine tomorrow. But, when a baby is
growing inside you, you can't give it the boot so
easily. Inside you, it feeds off of everything you
feel, do, and consume. When it's born, you create its
food in your body and sustain it. This amazes me. And
I wonder, if I never have a child can I ever be that
close to playing God? Can I ever have that much power
over another human being? And do I want to, really? As
fun as it sounds in the short term. A child is for as
long as you or it lives. That could be the rest of
your life. Fuck! (or maybe not)
Guinean little girls tie rocks to their backs to
simulate babies or even more disturbingly, they strap
their small school chalkboards to their backs.
Chalkboards that they should be writing sums and words
on, instead they tie them to their backs like a baby.
That's the question, damn it! Do you have to sacrifice
professional/artistic/personal achievement to have a
child? Can you create as breathtakingly beautiful
poetry on the chalkboard during the day if you have to
strap it on your back at night? What's unfortunate is
that when you want that child strapped to your back to
become a chalkboard, it won't. It's a baby on your
back forever until eventually you switch positions and
your baby is carrying you. Too many girls give up
their school chalkboards altogether to tie a real baby
on their back.
But, I digress–back to me–for the moment, I'm
childless. But, I love babies with their rosebud
mouths and beautiful tiny fingers and toes. I admire
the women flaunting bellies like watermelons under
their skirts. With them, I feel like a barren
toad–like I should just shave my head, grab a black
leather jacket, a motorcycle, a pack of chew, a
switchblade, and join the Hell's Angels. Okay, so I
just don't feel very womanly by Guinean standards
sometimes. But, I continue to be approached by Guinean
men.
The underlying reasons could be scrutinized while
drinking many bottles of Skol. I'll scratch the
surface here. Maybe – could it be they want, a VISA,
hot American sex, my huge Peace Corps salary? No, my
mom always said, it's my charming personality? Anyway,
I'm constantly bombarded with "fun" innuendoes from
the leaders of the village. "I'll spend the night in
your hut tonight. Prepare the bed." "Ooooh, look at
those hips!" "Tell your boyfriend if he comes, I will
beat him up." "You don't want me to come tonight? A
man is a man." With my strangeness comes a lot of
attention. I, that look the quintessential little
wholesome Midwestern girl next door who likes poetry,
a little like Molly McButter in a black turtleneck, am
suddenly exotic. Something I've always wanted to be
since being called cute from birth until the present.
Suddenly, I'm exotic and the random love letters and
pictures I've been sent and propositions and
declarations of love and pleading men has just been
flowing towards me nonstop. It's like I'm trapped in a
shower stall with a video camera on me and someone
else has control of the water. The water keeps flowing
and flowing and sometimes it's freezing cold and
sometimes it's boiling hot and sometimes it's warm and
comforting, but through it all there's that strange
connaissance that you are being watched naked and
wincing or screaming or cooing with pleasure or
cursing and grimacing and jerking awkwardly by a huge
group of random people. Sometimes, I want to get out
of the shower, put on my robe, and watch 90210 alone
with a towel turban on my head and a cup of Bosco.
My boyfriend has none of this. Women call him
"Mista'" and maybe ask him for mayonnaise once in a
while. It's not easy being a lazy, childless,
husbandless, freak.
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